Jealousy: Makes My Blue Eyes, Green
by lbc
Summary: House is jealous. Part 2b is up. Definitely House and Wilson. Part 2b is slash and concludes the story.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Jealousy: Makes My Blue Eyes, Green! (1/2)

By: lbc

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: For Mature Adults

Genre: slash

Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned these characters, but I don't

Summary: Gregory House is jealous

Although it had been a long day, for once, Greg House didn't feel tired. His right leg throbbed a bit, but it was muted by his usual dose of Vicodin. Ever since he had paid a thousand dollars for two tickets to see the monster machines, he had been counting on this day. Today, he was going to flash two front row tickets in front of James Wilson. The Monster Machs had returned to New Jersey . . . well, really New York, but what the hell!

Stalking up to Wilson's door as best as his limp would let him, his insides were doing callisthenics as he waited with impatience and anxiety for his friend to answer the door. So what if it was only 8:00 am on their day off? House knew that Wilson would be as excited as he was. The younger man had bemoaned the fact that he had missed the first epic battle when he had been working in the cause of Stacey Warner's husband.

House didn't acknowledge the good cause aspect of Wilson's activities, but he had refused to hold a grudge . . . well, maybe not too much of one so when this rare opportunity to see THE CRUSHING MACHINE and THE BIG SQUEEZE FROM THE WEST on display, Greg House knew that James Wilson would be chomping at the bit.

Standing at the door with a smirky smile and the tickets in his hand, Greg House's face fell as he saw the rumpled look of Mr.-Dressed-To-Perfection James Wilson standing in the doorway as he responded to House's insistent knocking. The younger man's hair was badly dishevelled, and he was wearing a short robe which had obviously just been thrown over his . . . naked body!

Before Wilson could invite his friend into his apartment, House pushed his way in, his mind in turmoil. He was just starting to harangue his friend on the state of his undress and its sloppiness which reminded him of himself when a voice called out from the bedroom . . . a very masculine voice - - "Who is it, Jim? I called in a breakfast delivery."

Wilson stood staring, looking faintly confused. Greg House stood staring - - totally speechless, the tickets dropping to the floor. Finally, House found his voice, blurting out, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

For a moment, James Wilson looked abashed then a mischievous twinkle sparked in his dark eyes, "Well, I don't have to tell you everything I do, do I?"

Expecting Greg House to laugh and carry on with the conversation, Wilson was totally unprepared and speechless when his friend turned and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door . . . VERY LOUDLY as he departed.

For a moment, James Wilson stood with his mouth open, trying to put two and two together, but coming up with nothing; then he noticed the two tickets lying on the ground and began to analyze the situation.

Hmmm! Obviously House had made plans for us to go to a MONSTER MACHINES match. But nothing stops us from going; it's tonight . . . not right now. Hearing a noise he looked around to see a smaller version of himself walking out of Wilson's bedroom.

"Hey, Jim, was it breakfast? I ordered ham, eggs, bacon, and coffee. You cook okay, but . . ."

Wilson didn't even hear the insult to his cooking due to the concern at the back of his mind. Why was House so upset? Then James Wilson, M.D. looked at his cousin, dressed in almost nothing but a robe, somewhat similar to Wilson's. He saw a beautiful young man with brown, wavy hair, an enchanting smile, and obviously naked underneath.

Slapping his forehead, James Wilson suddenly remembered what he looked like. In a detached way, almost forgetting his cousin's presence, Wilson replied, "No . . . it wasn't breakfast . . . just a friend."

"Heeeeyyyyyy! Look at those! Two tickets to THE MONSTER MACHINES TAKE NEW YORK, what a surprise, where'd you get them? I've been wantin' to go, but I didn't have the money. I'm not a famous consultant and department head at Princeton-Plainsboro . . . just a lowly Med School peon . . . really, you didn't have to get them – they must have cost you a bundle; how'd you know I wanted to go?"

Said peon in the guise of one Thomas Wilson, favorite cousin of James Wilson, continued to ramble on about the beneficence of his cousin, not noticing James Wilson's distraction. Wilson collapsed on the still sheet-covered sofa. Thomas, in his usual concern for his "elderly" cousin had offered to share the master bedroom with him, but was obviously less than sincere when he demanded proof that the good doctor did NOT snore. James Wilson immediately opted for the sofa.

James Wilson was angry, but he wasn't sure who the target of his anger was. As Thomas continued to rattle on, the older Wilson began to strongly suspect his younger relative of being the key target for violence, but in all honesty, it was not Thomas' fault that he had uttered those golden words at such an inappropriate time.

Wilson's second target was, of course, Greg House. How dare the man think . . . that he was bedding a . . . mere child . . . and in his own apartment? Of course, James Wilson remembered VERY VIVIDLY Greg House managing to lure the 18 year old James Wilson into his bed with hardly a more clever line than "Hmm, I think your ass has a cold; better put it to bed . . . my bed." Of course, House had waited to deliver this immortal line until after the incoming medical school student had been introduced.

House thinks I'm playing around with my own cousin! Wait a minute, he doesn't know he's my cousin! Damn him. Always judging! He leaves me and every since then everything I do, he looks down his handsome nose at me. What right does he have to judge me? Me! After all he bedded me, and he was ten years older at the time. How dare he

Suddenly, Wilson was called back from his thoughts by the further epic words of his cousin, "Hey, Jim, the delivery's here; I seem to be a bit short; could you loan me a ten?"

The GLARE of the Wilsons was immediately aimed at the younger generation, but the ten spot appeared and was promptly handed over. James Wilson decided to take a shower while the BOTTOMLESS PIT converted matter to energy. Thankfully his cousin was only going to be in town for a week or so before heading on to a new semester at Med School.

Knowing that he always thought better in the shower, James Wilson closed the door to the bathroom, shutting out the ecstasy of Thomas Wilson devouring the cholesterol ridden breakfast that he had ordered. As the steaming hot water poured over his body, James Wilson's mind returned to Greg House's stricken face. He just couldn't have been that upset. After all, I've been married three times since we had our year together . . . what's he expect . . . celibacy?

Anger roared again through the young man's body. First at Greg House, for being such a sarcastic, caustic, bloody-minded prick who deserved what he thought he got when he walked in . . . unannounced . . . on a young, healthy, virile bachelor!

As the water began to cool, so did James Wilson. In the back of his mind, Wilson, ever honest with himself, acknowledged that his smart response only fuelled the problem. How could he blame House when everything looked exactly as if there was a "tryst" going on? God, what a mess this is! You better talk to House.

As Wilson got dressed, he resolved to find his friend and explain the whole situation. After all, James Wilson didn't have that many friends that he could afford to alienate his best friend.

Sighing, he walked out into the living room, only to gag as he saw the devastation that his relative had made out of breakfast. Heading out the door, James Wilson's last thought was, I didn't know anyone could do that to food!

End of part 1


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Jealousy: Makes My Blue Eyes, Green (2a/2)

By: lbc

Rating: For Mature Adults

Genre: slash

Note: Parts 2a and 2b complete the story.

James Wilson returned to his apartment, looking totally bedraggled and forlorn. He had gone to the hospital, even though it was House's day-off. He had gone to House's apartment - - nothing. Where was the damn man?

As he entered his apartment, he saw the bright, cheery - - almost perky face of his cousin, Thomas. "Hey Cous', where ya been? We better get goin' if we're going to get to see those BIG MONSTERS!" Thomas lightly punched his cousin in the arm as he shook his booty in tune to some music that only he could hear.

Wilson wiped his hand over his forehead. He was worried and totally exhausted. "Tom, I'm sorry; I should have told you before. Those aren't my tickets. The man who was here earlier today brought them over; we . . . uh were going to go, I guess; he never got a chance to tell me."

Thomas Wilson, a younger replica of his cousin, looked totally forlorn and disheartened. Then he raised his head and with a mischievous smile asked, "Well, maybe the guy doesn't want to go anymore; how about callin' him?"

Wilson felt his anger rising, but he managed to hold it back. "Tom, that man is Gregory House and . . . well, he's not feeling too kindly towards me right now so I don't know."

"Well, I'll ask him. Gee, that was THE Gregory House. Even I, a lowly peon have heard of him. Give me his phone number, and I'll call."

"No, Tom. Read my lips: I – do – not – know – where -- House is."

"Awww, come on Cous', you don't want those tickets to go to waste do ya?"

James Wilson felt a headache coming on. Now he remembered why he kept his "favorite" cousin at a safe distance, most of the time.

"All right, all right, I'll call Allison; she might know where to find him."

"Allison?"

Wilson grimaced and threw a glare at his cousin. "Put it back in your pants, Tom. She's a doctor and older than you . . . and a good friend of House's; so don't get any ideas."

Wilson's quickly checked Allison Cameron's phone number and then called.

"Hello?"

"Allison, it's James Wilson; I was wondering if you knew where your sarcastic boss was?"

The girlish voice seemed to hesitate and then she replied, "Well, as a matter of fact, I do; he's here."

So that's where he went for refuge. "Oh, well, I was wondering . . ."

Noise filled the air on the other end of the line as House's well-known sarcasm came through, "I want my tickets back and right now."

James Wilson's heart dropped; his mouth went dry. It was a moment before he responded in a whisper, "I'll send them over by messenger, right away."

"Hopefully, you won't get distracted with SOMEONE ELSE before doing so." With that sarcasm, Greg House turned the phone off.

For a moment, James Wilson stood in the spot near the phone, paralyzed. His eyes were closed as desolation swept through him. Not even when Greg House lay in a hospital bed fighting for his life had he lashed out at his friend like that. House must be on the edge of murder or . . . worse.

Finally, James Wilson turned around, looking at the expectant puppy look of his cousin. Clearing his throat, he said, "Tommy, Dr. House wants his tickets back; could you run them over to Dr. Cameron's apartment, please?"

James Wilson only called his cousin, Tommy, on those rare occasions when he was truly upset and on the edge of a supreme anger release; so, for once, the young man went low-key. Backing up slightly to stay out of the reach of the simmering older man, Tom Wilson started nodding his head like some bobble-headed figure. "Sure, Jim, be happy to . . . just tell me the address."

Wilson wrote the address on a piece of paper, saying nothing more. As he watched the younger man run out of the apartment, he felt as if a blackness was creeping in on him. For the last 18 years, Greg House had been his friend; it hadn't always been easy, but now James Wilson had done something that Greg House couldn't forgive, and James Wilson wasn't sure if he could forgive Greg House either.

Almost an hour later, Wilson's phone rang. "Jim, it's me, Tom. Listen, I'm not going to be back to the apartment for awhile. Me and Allison are going to go see THE MONSTER MACHINES so I'll see you when I see you. Bye."

"Tom?"

The only thing that James Wilson heard, however, was a click at the other end of the line. Wilson stood staring at the receiver as if it could give him answers. Why are Tom and Allison going? What happened to House? Why do I feel like the earth is going to open up and swallow me?

Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed the much put-upon man. He collapsed into the nearest chair, hoping to slide into oblivion until, at least, Hanukkah, but as a warm, comforting stupor began to pale over him, there was a knock at the front door. Too drained to even try to go to the door, Wilson yelled out with what strength he could muster, "Come in, you couldn't do any more to me!"

A well-known figure appeared in the doorway as the door slowly opened. Wilson sat staring at the grungy, bearded, sad-eyed figure posed before him, with a moan Wilson collapsed back on the chair with the thought, Oh God, is my insurance paid up?

End of part 2a


	3. Chapter 2b

Title: Jealousy: Makes My Blue Eyes, Green! (2b/2)

By: lbc

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: For Mature Adults

Genre: slash

Disclaimer: I sure wish I owned these characters.

As James Wilson watched Gregory House slowly limp into his apartment, he tried to analyze the deep blue eyes, but he couldn't tell if they were glazed over due to frost and anger or something more hopeful for keeping Wilson's own body in one piece . . . such as pain and an overdose of Vicodin.

House came to stand a few feet from the seated Wilson. It was obvious that he was leaning heavily on his cane. House's barriers were up in force, and they were bristling. Silence seemed smarter than words at the moment so James Wilson kept his mouth shut, not even asking his friend to take a seat.

Finally, House whispered out as if his throat was scratchy with a cold, "Why didn't you tell me?"

It was not necessary to ask House what he was talking about so James Wilson gathered up his courage and responded, "Why didn't you give me a chance to explain, instead of immediately assuming?"

For a moment, the blue eyes flickered . . . in pain . . . in disbelief . . . what? House shook his head; a brief smirk crossed his face . . . almost as if he was pleased with Wilson's response, but then House opened his mouth, "Yeah, that's right; blame me when you go parading yourself in that . . . well, you haven't got the legs for it."

"That's not what you said when you gave it to me."

The blue eyes shuttered then closed as he remembered the occasion of the gift. He had given it to his best friend as a gift for his last wedding night. Pain shot through the almost frail man as he remembered that awful day and night. He had lost James Wilson to a third wife. He had grown so used to Wilson always being there, especially after his infarction and Wilson's decision to become Head of Oncology at PPTH, and then the man he loved had left him.

"Yeah, well you're older now, and you're body's not what it was."

A light came on in Wilson's dark eyes. The two men had known each other for almost two decades, and this was the way that they always resolved any conflict between the two of them - - banter, but this time . . . this time, Wilson didn't feel like being manipulated.

"You should know about older!"

"Oh sure, kick the cripple when he's down!"

Normally, this brought a smile to both men, but this time it failed. In a voice, barely above a whisper, Wilson replied, "This isn't about you being crippled. You seduced me when I was 18, and you didn't seem too upset about it. Why did you judge me . . . incorrectly as it turned out . . . for possibly having a male lover now . . . and Tom is a lot older than I was!"

House's face smirked, "Oh yeah, he's all of 22 or 23, isn't he and you're 36 . . . naughty, naughty - - that's almost 15 years. Besides, I was just trying to protect you."

Wilson shook his head as if it was ringing, "You want to try that again?"

"Well, it's perfectly obvious, Dr. Wilson. The last time you went to bed with a man . . . meaning me, you were just a lowly medical student without a reputation, NOW, you are a well-respected Oncologist who should be more concerned with his career and reputation."

Wilson's attractive mouth drew itself up into the shape of an 'Oh', but he hesitated to say anything. He then turned to walk over to his patio door and stood for a minute before replying to his own reflection in the glass, "House, what an ego you have," then Wilson turned and looked directly at his friend with a look that was colder than the iceberg that sank the Titanic, "Look, House; I've had three wives since we cavorted that year, what makes you think that you're the last man?"

Neither man knew how long the silence lasted. Finally, however, Greg House made a move towards the door; agony written all over his face.

"From across the room, Wilson's voice echoed, "That's what you always do, isn't it, Greg . . . run away or push people away who care about you?"

"Of course, we always come back to that. I dumped you 18 years ago, and you haven't let me ever forget it, well, wake up, Wilson - - I had my whole career ahead of me, and you were an 18 year old bed mate!"

James Wilson stood there stunned; his stomach was churning, blackness crept into his vision. With what strength he had left, he whispered, "Get out."

Gregory House's eyelids blinked once and then closed. With a brief nod, he turned and left the apartment.

Wilson groped for the nearest chair, collapsing in it as sobs of anguish broke forth from his bent-over body.

HWHWHWHWHWHW

Two days later, James Wilson was finally free. His cousin had left for Baltimore; his paperwork was caught up, and there had been no Greg House in almost 48 hours. As usual it was late when Wilson left the hospital, but he noted the red corvette sitting there. Hmm, his choice in video games must be improving.

"Doctor Wilson, Doctor Wilson!"

Wilson recognized the voice right away. Turning he put a smile on as Lisa Cuddy approached. "Dr. Cuddy, I see you're here late as well."

"Doctor Wilson, will you do me a favor?"

Wilson was suspicious, but answered, "If I can."

"Will you please go see House and find out what's the matter with him?"

Throwing a glance at the red corvette, Wilson frowned, "Isn't House here?"

Cuddy rubbed her forehead, "No, he left yesterday, saying he wasn't feeling well. Dr. Cameron drove him home, but he said that he would be back today then he called in sick again."

"Issss Doctor Cameron here," Wilson asked with a great deal of innuendo and scepticism.

"Yes, of course, she reported for duty. She hasn't seen House, if that's what you're asking."

Wilson retreated slightly. "Sorry. Look Greg House is a big boy and contrary to popular opinion . . . while he needs a keeper; I am not him; so get Allison or one of the other ducklings to look him up and give him a physical . . . or something. I strongly recommend something on the order of a colonic."

Cuddy gave him a glare and rubbed her head as if she had a headache and half of it was standing in front of her. "Look, you know he won't let anyone else touch him; so please go see him. Check out if he's even alive!"

Cuddy turned around and stormed back into the hospital. Wilson stood for a moment, staring at her retreating figure then threw his briefcase into his car and soon was storming out of the carpark.

Telling himself that he was not going to go to House's apartment; that's exactly where he ended up and remained for better than a half hour before he decided his Hippocratic Oath also included sarcastic, caustic, ego-driven cripples . . . whether they wanted him or not.

Wilson knocked several times on the oft-visited door. Finally, he heard a muffled voice mumble, "Get the hell out of here, Wilson."

Wilson smiled. At least, he's alive. Wilson tried the door knob and was relieved when it opened. James Wilson would not admit to himself what he truly feared. He had not seen it in over five years in his friend, but that had been the most devastating moment of his life.

Walking into the large living room, Wilson could see House, seated at the piano, leaning over as if he were asleep. The younger man stood, staring at his friend for a minute then he said quietly, "I lied."

For a minute, there was no reaction then House slowly sat up and began playing an old Roy Orbison's melody: "Love Hurts".

Wilson said nothing. He had often heard House play the song in the aftermath of Stacey's departure. Quietly, Wilson moved two steps and sat down to listen to his friend pour out his feelings through the sad notes.

Finally, the haunting and beautiful melodies came to an end; House closed the lid on the piano, carefully turning on the stool to face his friend. "Why'd you lie?"

"I wanted to hurt you; to wound you just like you did me so many years ago."

"You know I lied, don't you?"

"Did you?"

"It was like ripping out my heart to walk out on you and go through with my Internship. Do you know how close I came to not leaving?"

"You almost gave up the chance to go to Johns Hopkins?"

"Yeah, and if I had known your nephew was going there I would have."

Wilson scrunched up his face in mock disbelief. "What are you, a fortune teller . . . and he's NOT my nephew, you moron!"

For a second House's blue eyes twinkled then turned serious again. "I keep forgetting that you're younger; you act so serious most of the time. Did I do that to you or was it your wives?"

For a second there was silence again, but then Wilson responded, "Actually, it was the nightmares I keep having of Allison Cameron getting to see THE MONSTER MACHINES twice and me - - zip. Of course, knowing that you had to pay all that money helps!"

For a moment, Wilson thought he had gone too far, but when House replied, "Yeah, and you're going to pay me back by buying me some leather for my 'vette," he let out a sigh of relief.

"Leather - - you mean seats?"

"No, you barbarian - - for the hood!"

Wilson laughed as the image of the front end of the 'vette being covered in leather. "How come I have to pay; it was Allison who got to see THE CRUSHER twice."

"You, Wilsons are so stingy. All right, all right! I guess I owe your cousin something for taking Cameron off my hands. I have several new video attractions that I want; I'll expect you to pay for them."

Wilson nodded then sat there, with nothing to say. Finally, House broke the silence, "Why are you here?"

"Cuddy wanted to know if you were all right. She insisted on me coming over here and giving you a complete physical exam."

House's eyebrow shot up. "That woman; she always wants my body."

"Yeah, well, if that's true, how come she sent me?"

A brief look of sadness and wistfulness crossed the handsome face, "Well, she lives vicariously, and she knows who I want to give me a full exam. I've always liked playing doctor with you."

"Hmmm, are you all right?"

"Why don't you check and see?"

For a moment Wilson just sat there then he stood up, but instead of approaching House, he headed towards the door. As he reached for the doorknob, he turned slightly, his shoulders slouched, "Maybe she knows what I've always known - - that I would cover for you and trust you to do what's right."

House folded his hands over his cane which was now in his hands and leaned on the support. "What's that supposed to mean?"

James Wilson took a breath . . . then another one. He felt deprived of air, but from somewhere he found the courage to go on. He had promised himself to never bring up that devastating moment, but he continued, "I . . . I got to the hospital earlier than you thought I did. Stacey called me when the chemically induced sedation began. I rushed out here pretty damn fast. I . . . I just didn't let you see me until after she . . . left. I walked in after you . . . "

House sat waiting and when Wilson couldn't finish, he finished for him, "When I increased the dosage of the painkiller."

Wilson dropped his head, nodding in agreement at the same time.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"You had to decide."

"I almost didn't reset it. I was drifting away, and I heard your voice. I couldn't do that to you."

"You know you could have gotten a nurse in big trouble for that?"

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have been here, would I? Selfish bastard to the end, aren't I, Wilson? Oh well, I did reset it."

"No, you didn't; I did. You were reaching for it, but were too gone, so I did it. Are you going to hate me now, too?"

Greg House held out his hand hesitantly to his friend who came forward. Reaching around to Wilson's butt, House gently caressed the two mounds. "God, I love you, James Wilson. Remember when I told you that your ass was cold and needed to be put to bed?" Wilson nodded; a smile on his face. "Well, that's my recommendation now, and I'm a world famous diagnostician so I know what I'm talking about."

"Lead on, McDuff."

"You got a silver tongue, my son; let's see if we can put it to good use."

HWHWHWHWHW

Several hours later the two men lay in bed. Greg House looked down at his sleeping friend whose beautiful face laid on House's shoulder. The loving had been quick and impatient and then slow and ecstatic. Now exhaustion and contentment filled them. Suddenly, House realized that dark eyes were looking at him sleepily. "Mmmph, Greg, can I ask you a question?"

"Look in the Kama Sutra, that explains it better than I could."

"Ha! Ha! What were you doing over at Cameron's?"

"Now, who's jealous?"

Wilson sat up; his worried eyes looking directly into House's blue eyes. "You think I'm screwing some youngster into the mattress, and you immediately run to Cameron, why shouldn't I be worried?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly visiting her. I was mad at you, and I couldn't face going to my apartment so I went to her place."

Wilson smiled shyly. "Well, why didn't you go with her to see the monsters?"

"As soon as I saw your 'messenger', I recognized him. When I let him breathe after slamming him up against the wall, I figured I owed him something, especially once I found out he was your relative. Allison wasn't too crazy about it, but she knew that I was heading over to your apartment, so she took what she could get."

Wilson leaned over and kissed House then gently nuzzled his nipples. "Hmmmm, you mean you preferred to come over and insult me rather than go out on a date with a beautiful woman?"

"I wasn't expecting to insult you, but . . . who taught you to be so sarcastic and stubborn?"

There was no response for several minutes as James Wilson put his silver tongue to good use. After enjoying James Wilson's bedside manner, House looked completely content, for once, relieved of the throb of the injured leg. "Hmmmm, you ought to bottle that prescription, Doctor."

"I think that's the first compliment you've ever given me."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not; I remember distinctly telling you that you had the most screwable ass this side of Grey's Anatomy!"

"Gee, you're a sweet talker, House. No wonder all those patients in the clinic just love you."

"You're not so bad yourself. Do you realize how dead I usually am what with the Vicodin and the pain from my leg? I'm never that aroused, but two reveilles in one night have got to be a record."

"We aim to please, Doctor."

"Well, you certainly did that." The two men collapsed back on the pillows quickly sinking into slumber. Several hours later, Greg House opened one eye and looked around trying to find the warm comfort of James Wilson, but the bed was empty. Three minutes later the gorgeous body of the younger man walked into the bedroom with a mug of coffee, some toast, and a white pill. Wilson smiled shyly, "Just in case you need one. It's already 7:00 am, and I need to go get some clean clothes so I'll see you later at the hospital."

"House looked lasciviously at his bed partner then asked a very pertinent question, "How am I going to get to work?"

"Hmm, no wonder you're in the field of diagnostics. I believe that there is such a thing as a taxi . . . or . . . you could call GIRL WONDER. After all, she did drive you home the other day." With that Wilson winked and walked out of the bedroom and the apartment.

Greg House continued to lie on the bed for several minutes. His injured leg was only now beginning to ache. Hmmm! Perhaps, I've found a new prescription for the agony of dead muscles - - screwing and being screwed. Those thoughts continued to entertain House for several minutes, until he looked at the time. Reaching for the phone, he called Allison Cameron, who was very happy to go out of her way and pick up her boss. Well, she didn't really sound that happy, but House assumed that she really was - - after all, who wouldn't be thrilled to pick up their handsome, charming boss who had just - - two days before - - handed her tickets to see THE CRUSHER? Hmmm, I wonder how many hours of clinic duty I can get from Cameron for my generosity?

The drive to PPTH was very quiet. House really didn't care, but he did sense that the young woman might be a bit miffed with him. Totally in reverie over the activities of the previous evening, House was barely paying attention until the words, jewelry shop, floated by him for what must have been the thousandth time.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cameron; what were you saying?"

Cameron sighed as was her usual habit when her irascible boss was marching to his own drummer. "I SAID I would appreciate a few minutes extra time at lunchtime today, if nothing major is going on. I . . . have a friend who's having a baby shower tonight, and I have to pick up my gift my 1:00 or so."

Seeing a chance for some free clinic time, House answered somberly, "Well, of course, my dear, I'll SOMEHOW keep all those sick people from falling down and collapsing from . . . oh, shall we say noon until 1:30 today?"

Cameron's face flushed as she heard the sarcasm, (although her heart fluttered over the words, my dear) but she had hardened herself to it, and didn't back down. "Thank you, Doctor House." Then, however, she made her mistake. "Of course, if I can make it up to you in any way."

"Well, actually there is. I am committed to 15 hours of clinic duty this week - - now I'm not a greedy man . . . how about you doing 10 of them for me?"

"Well . . . all right. After all, you also gave me those wonderful monster machine tickets and ARRANGED for such a great escort. Of course, I'll do the clinic duty." Allison Cameron smiled silently to herself . . . after all, she had learned a bit about sarcasm herself.

Unfortunately, House was completely oblivious to Cameron's tactics, and since they were now entering the parking lot of PPTH, the conversation came to an end. Cameron stopped in front of the entrance so House could get out. Normally, House would have made some reference to being coddled, but his mind was definitely elsewhere. He re-opened the door to the car, leaned over and asked hesitantly, "What did you say the name of that jewelers was?"

"Jamieson's on Main Street."

House nodded; said thanks, and then turned and waved as he limped away.

Cameron sat there, staring, totally mystified by House's civility. Finally, the car behind her honked, and she pulled into a parking place.

The morning went well. House seemed to be in a good humor, spending most of the morning listening to soap operas or hiding from Cuddy. Just before noon, Cameron left, briefly noticing the absence of the red corvette.

As she arrived outside the jewellers, she was pleasantly surprised to find a place to park. Starting to approach the shop, she noticed the tell-tale red corvette. Looking through the plate glass windows, she spotted Greg House peering over a glass case. Hesitant to go into the store, she spent the next several minutes hovering out of sight and spying on the activities. Finally, Greg House left with a small, beautifully wrapped box. To Allison's mind, it looked like an engagement ring box.

Her conclusions were quickly reinforced when she approached the young man who had been helping House and stood just where House had been standing. He had been standing in front of some truly beautiful and LARGE engagement rings. Her heart flipped over. Who would House be buying an engagement ring for? It clearly couldn't be Stacey - - she was married. Cuddy? Hmmm, that was a possibility, but it wasn't likely.

Me? Suddenly, her whole body felt light and enervated by the most delicious feeling - - definitely nothing that medical science could explain. Of course, that's why House called her to get a ride this morning. He needed a ride, and he had thought of her!

Tom had hinted that Wilson and House had been having "problems" and hadn't she been there for House: taking him home when he was ill, picking him up this morning; taking that immature maniac off his hands when he started whining about the monster machines tickets? Of course, Greg House needed her - - that's all she wanted was to be needed. She had sacrificed for her first husband, and she would do the same for her SECOND. And wasn't it sweet of him to take the time to ask about a jewellers so he could buy the ring from a good store?

Allison was in a dream world as she drove back to PPTH. She had already called her friend and told her that she wouldn't be able to go to the party because she was . . . unexpectedly on duty . . . it wouldn't do for her to not be home if Dr. House . . . Greg wanted to come over this evening and give her the precious, little box.

Humming as she walked through the hospital corridor towards the small space the fellowship assistants maintained in service to Greg House, Allison Cameron almost collided with James Wilson. I really must pay attention; it wouldn't do to make a medical mistake now that I've finally gotten Dr. House's attention!

James Wilson put out his hand to steady the young woman. "Dr. Cameron, are you all right . . . you . . . uh, look very nice. You look like you have a secret or something."

Finally, realizing who she was talking to, Allison Cameron tried to dampen her euphoria, "Oh, I'm fine, Dr. Wilson; I've just had a wonderful lunch hour - - that's all."

"Oh, I see (although he really didn't). By the way, have you seen your boss, he asked for a consult with me, and I can't seem to find him."

"Well, maybe he got caught in traffic or something."

"Traffic?"

Practically glowing by this time, Allison continued, becoming more and more breathless as she tried to control her emotions. "Well, I just happened to see him at a jewelers downtown when I went to pick up something for a friend." She held out her own small box to demonstrate House's package. "He was purchasing something that looked like this so I . . . well, I just assumed that he might not be back yet. The traffic was horrible."

James Wilson nodded as if he understood, but he didn't. What would House want with a jewelers? Sometimes he even forgot to wear his watch! "Well, thanks, Allison. I guess I'll just have to keep looking or maybe page him."

"Of course, Doctor. Oh, by the way, Greg spent a lot of money on those monster machine tickets, thanks so much for deciding not to go; it was so exciting!" I'll prove to Greg that I can be interested in the same things that he is.

James Wilson's face went blank and almost white as he heard Cameron call House by his first name. Finally, he realized that he was standing alone in the middle of the corridor like an idiot. He quickly whirled around, heading for his office. He managed to avoid, running into anyone as he kept his head bent, carefully studying the tiles on the floor. Just as he got to his office, however, he stopped and looked up. Looking through the glass walls of his and House's offices, he saw the slender figure of the man he loved, slouched back in the most comfortable chair in his office. He was holding something in his hand and then he began to . . . juggle it. It was the shape of a small box - - a box just like an engagement ring would come in. Then James Wilson remembered the flushed, happy face of Allison Cameron. House had visited a jewelers today, and Allison Cameron was acting like a blushing bride!

James Wilson stepped back so that he was less visible to the man inside. House was actually smiling . . . and whistling. He stopped juggling the small item and ripped open the wrapping . . . almost gleefully then looked at the contents with . . . what seemed - - for House - - to be affection. James Wilson's heart sank. When House moved the small box to a new position the natural lighting began to glint off the gold in the box. With a bleeding heart, James Wilson turned to walk down the corridor away from the scene that had destroyed his life.

THE END


End file.
